Someone you love
by 11timesBefore
Summary: "You would only do that with someone you love, right?" Alfred uses Ivan as a tool to drown out the pain of his break-up and rift between Arthur. But he never planned to actually fall for the strange and mysterious Russian.
1. Chapter 1

Yeah...I'm taking a break from **21 Days**, cuz the ideas just aren't getting to me ._.

And this new story is something that's been on my mind and was originally supposed to be (kinda-ish) **21 Days**, but somehow **21 Days** got turned completely different, so yeah xD

Here it is, but I'm not sure I'll finish it ^^ Just warning. For some reason, I find that uploading my stories (which are more of my thoughts) helps me... so that's why I'm uploading this...

It's really angst-y, btw C:

Anyways, enjoy (?) :D

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**Alfred's musings pt. 1**

When Arthur broke up with Alfred, it was unexpected.

The two had been a couple for over a century, and if there was a term that could be used for them, it was _happy, happy sweethearts who ended up marrying each other and living together forever._

The day of the break-up, Alfred was rushing back home to Arthur's house to give him a bouquet of flowers and a pack of store-bought scones. He was grinning at the small joke they always shared about how even store-made scones were better than Arthur's home-made ones, and knocked on the door. The American imagined the annoyance on Arthur's face at the scones and then the reluctant smile he would coax out of the Englishman when he gave him the flowers, followed by a long, knee-melting kiss.

But when the door opened, Arthur didn't answer. His boss did.

"Ah, America," George the III raised an eyebrow. "How quite _pleasant _it is to see you."

"Hiya George," Alfred greeted him. "Say, where's England? And why are you here?"

The man frowned at Alfred's use of his name, but then a dark and evil look flitted across his face when he answered, "England, eh? He is inside, and we have just finished discussing a very important event that will take place soon. Why don't you join us?" George smiled humorously at the scones in Alfred's hands. "Why, I didn't know you cooked, America! Come inside and let us share those delicacies."

Alfred was a bit annoyed that he was being invited into England's house when he had been going there since he was two, without having to ask permission. But George reentered the building, and he quickly followed the man.

Usually, Alfred was cheered by the familiar-ness of Arthur's house, especially by the boring old paintings of barons with their boring old lacy, British dress-shirts. (Alfred got a great kick out of teasing Arthur about his taste in home decorations.) But today, there seem to be long shadows stretching across the pictures of England's previous bosses and heroes; Alfred found it hard to shake away the sudden foreboding that had welled up in his chest.

George led Alfred to a strange and new room he'd never seen before. When they came in, it took awhile for Alfred to spot Arthur. The British man was writing something furiously in the back-desk.

"Hey, Iggy," Alfred called in a sing-song voice. He dropped the flowers and scones on the ground, and not caring that George was watching them, came over and gave Arthur a kiss. Alfred didn't think that Arthur would be too mad, even if they were PDA-ing in front of his boss, and brought his arms up to embrace his lover.

The American was surprised, however, when he felt the firm rigidness of Arthur's lips, and the Englishman pulling away from his touch.

Arthur stood up, silently looking away from him.

"Please tell him," George spoke up from behind the two. He leaned back against the wall, expression bored. "It's been quite disgusting watching this going on."

Alfred glanced back at the man, then Arthur, wondering what in the world was happening. "Iggy? What's wrong?"

There was a silence, and all Alfred wanted to do was hug Arthur, to get those beautiful emerald eyes staring at him again. But for some reason, he was afraid to.

"Go ahead, tell him _exactly_ what's wrong, England."

"…Iggy, please. Why aren't you looking at me?"

Before he could stop himself, Alfred grabbed Arthur's chin and jerked it up. Those eyes widened at his contact, large and green with tears.

"_Don't_ touch me, you git!" Arthur finally hissed out.

Alfred involuntarily started at the venom in his voice.

"I mean…" Arthur seemed to deflate at the hurt on Alfred's face. "Please… go away."

"…What are you talking about?" Alfred tried to touch his lover's arm but Arthur refused to consent, pulling away and putting distance between them.

_What the hell was this? _

"Iggy-"

"I said, _go away_." Arthur's voice was firmer this time, and his eyes met Alfred's coldly.

The American felt a painful lurch in his heart.

"Go away and don't come back anymore. I don't want you in my house, and I don't want to see your face ever again."

…

_What? _

Alfred could only stare at Arthur, refusing to believe what he had just heard.

"Yes," the Englishman murmured, eyes downcast. "I just said it... Honestly and truly, Alfred. Please, go away."

He didn't trust his voice, didn't want to say anything, but his heart betrayed him. "W-why?" Alfred managed to whisper.

There was a silence.

"Because…" Arthur said slowly, "something will happen one day… and we'll hate each other and…" Arthur raised his head to stare out the window of the room. "I don't want us to be like that."

"So, you're going to break up with me…?"

How scary and ominous that question was.

And the response was just a horrible.

Arthur was quiet, face hidden from Alfred's view, but then the Englishman turned around and more tears fell from those beautiful, emerald irises.

"Yes."

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**A/N**: Can you guess what time period this would be? Hint: George the III

Hope my facts aren't inaccurate;; And dw, Ivan will come later on~

Reviews are welcomed :3


	2. Chapter 2

Last part of Alfred's musings.

Been listening to Breath Me by Sia while typing these two parts and it's so sad-ish Dx

*takes a break and sleeps*

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**Alfred's musings pt. 2**

_Many decades later…_

It was Sunday night.

In his room alone, with only a single light from the moon filtering into the darkness, Alfred's thoughts turned to Arthur. As usual, when he thought of Arthur, Alfred's heart began its usual aching beat. It felt as though he was suffocating, suffocating from the dark surrounding him, from the empty chill that shook his soul.

He curled up into a ball, salty tears stinging his eyes.

_Years… decades… So much time had passed since that day. _

And yet he still felt the pain as though it was only yesterday.

And yet he still wanted to be friends with Arthur, to make things right with him.

And yet he didn't.

Suddenly, Alfred narrowed his eyes.

He hadn't wanted… _that _war.

The Revolution.

The revolution that had taken place just a week after Arthur's announcement, after George had kicked Alfred out of Arthur's house, out of England and Europe. The revolution that had changed life as he knew it, seeing the coldness and bland emptiness in Iggy's eyes when they faced each other in the rain, in the mud, with nothing but hatred in their hearts. The words they said had been broken up by the thunderous weather, and when Alfred was weaken by hesitation, Arthur attacked him. But it was only a small blow, and Alfred had gotten up and returned the attack with renewed vigor. When he won the war, he vowed never to associate himself with Arthur again. After all, that was what the Englishman had wanted, right…?

Everything changed after that day.

There was no longer love and nicety. It was pure and unadulterated loathing between the two. When they passed each other's ways in conferences or rare encounters, Alfred would become an animal. His words would drip with sarcasm and unrelenting venom, his insults full of bitter hate. In turn, Arthur would stew back seething comments that painfully tore at Alfred, and when he returned home, the American would fall on his bed and lay there for hours. Hurting.

_As I'm was doing now_, Alfred thought dully.

He let his eyes roam across the darkness of the room, out into the window of the city of New York. So lively and full of color, so much the opposite of his heart and soul- an empty and sorrow-filled thing.

"Why can't I… just forget you?"

~.

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A/N: Yep, time period was the American Revolution~ A horrible time :\

Chapters will be longer after this... Alfred's musings, I guess, would be considered the prologue. but now that's over, we can get into the real action^^

Reviews are loved :D


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